Collection of One-Shots

》when we were young

"Loki," you whisper from the other side of the thick door, your knuckles gently rapping against the engraved wood. "Loki." You repeat, feeling disheartened that he had not opened the door yet, but then again there was no reason to be upset, it was late, perhaps even early morning already. For just a few more seconds you stand waiting to hear if he was moving across the room and when there was only silence you quickly turned, ready to take the worn path back to your own chambers.

The creak of the door is the only thing that drew your attention back to the figure cloaked in shadows, a cool hand wrapping around your wrist bringing you into the room, dimly lit by the dwindling fire at its center. His room, though exactly the same as yours in many ways, seemed more like your own than it actually was, Loki was your best friend and many nights you found yourself in his chambers. Sitting cross-legged on the large bed, whether you both read in comfortable silence, or it was him helping you with the small amount of magic you possessed. Most of those nights ended the same, you falling asleep next to him, waking up with a boyish grin looking at you, but as children no one thought much about the common occurrence as your friendship was famed throughout the kingdom.

But time couldn't stand still, each of you aged, into a young lady and him a young prince. Duties had to be attended to, etiquettes had to be learned and the demands of daily life in the palace separated the two of you. The nightly visits that had grown into a vicious habit ceased and at times it was possible to go days without seeing him. The people of the palace could see the way your mood always stayed sullen, you kept to yourself, always in the library at odd hours or doing things that were, unfortunately, required.

One night some years later you found yourself in the same position you had been in for years prior, standing at Loki's door, gently knocking, hoping to see his face, and hear his voice as you feared your memories were beginning to fade with his absences. But there was no response, no patter of feet, no creaking of the door being opened and disgruntled you left to your own room. The fire place had long grown cold but still you sat up in bed wrapped in the silk sheets and fine nightgown, you had everything any girl could ever desire yet there was something missing, what felt like a hole in your heart, it had grown there since Loki was alienated from you.

The two princes' name days came and went, each one no longer the young boys you had known for so long, but they were men now, each different in their own ways, though it was always Loki who you looked forward to seeing. The day soon came when you as well would be of age, for courting, marriage, and eventually, children. Your mother insisted that you go to the events, and find a suitor, but even when you did go you took to the corner, avoiding dancing, sighing as he never even looked twice in your direction.

Alone on the balcony you cried, not because your heart was broken or that you had been wronged, but because you wanted your best friend back. You knew that now it would be inappropriate to stay in his room overnight as your were both of age, but you missed his company, his smile, his laugh, his tricks, him.

"What are you doing all alone?" Came the voice, smooth as silk, but oddly familiar. You turned, wiping away the few tears that streamed down your cheeks and looked on in shock as Loki stood before you.

"I...I did not wish to come in the first place, my mother, she insisted," your voice stuttered. He stepped closer, raising his hand to wipe away the dampness, his hands were as cool as you remembered, but no longer those of a boy, the tips of his fingers were beginning to callous. His hands lingered on your cheeks before falling away back to his sides. "I miss you Loki," your words surprised both him and you, but he sadly smiled and took both your hands in his.

"We have grown apart have we not?" You nodded, glancing down to where your hands rested within his, "you are wearing my colors." He notes and sheepishly you looked down at the simple gown, you had no choice in the design, but indeed, it was green with hints of gold threaded throughout the ensemble. "Will you give me a dance, my lady?" Reluctantly he pulled you from the isolation you coveted and back into the mass of people, and though you had numerous lessons in the art of dancing never had you actually accepted an offer until now.